A Most Important Job Worthy of James Bond
by theAkuRokuFaNaTiC
Summary: A day in the life of Winston Bancroft Kirkland is an exciting one.  But someone has to keep Master and Second Master from making kittens all day via Skype.  And it might as well be him.  Neko!UsUk and Established!Country!UsUk  Update:  I'm starting the Winston!Verse.  This is the first installment.


**A.N.: This story has been written for quite a while, but I never did get around to typing it. My sister has been bugging me about it for a while, so here it is! Also, each Country Cat in this story is given a name thought of by me (save for Tama and Gino), so they are completely unoriginal (most of the names are food-related), and I have a list of names of the sweeties in case anyone has questions. So, I don't own Hetalia (big shocker), and Hidekaz Himaruya does (yep). Enjoy!**

The people who laughed at perfectly respectable names - they were the haters of the world. People like stupid Jacques and Jacques' stupid master. Winston Bancroft Kirkland loved his name, every last kitty bit. But it wasn't easy, no. As a Scottish Fold, the other cats had grown accustomed to mocking the poor thing. On top of that, he was a tiny little kitty. But Winston was not a Munckin - he could _easily_ squash that tuna-loving Tama.

A day in the life of Winston was an exciting one. He tended to get up twenty-seven seconds earlier than his master and loved, desperately so, to jump on his master's bum in an attempt to get him up. Sometimes, though, Master would act as if the leaping feline hadn't even hurt him (because everyone knew that Winston was a heavy-weight).

''To soon, Winston,'' Master would say; the Scottish Fold often wondered why his master never seemed to get up early enough.

The most interesting thing about Country Cats - they could talk, but only with other County Cats and their respective masters. Knowing this, Winston scurried under his master's plain bed sheets (he kept the plaid ones in the closet), and say in his most dignified voice, '''Ello!''

To any other, they would say that Winston had some odd form of lisp and could not pronounce his words right. To Winston, however, everyone else was so very, _very_ wrong.

''Alright, all right; I'm up,'' Master grumbled, sitting up. He ran a hand through his messy, yellow hair, and the kitty beside him smirked inwardly. Winston had pretty fur, not at all like his master's. Winston's hair was white with orange spots, and he loved it. Why, he even loved his eyebrows. They were awesome, and that made Winston unique.

''What are we doing today, Master?'' Winston asked, trailing behind his walking master (who still seemed half-asleep).

Master smiled lightly as he walked into the bathroom. It was the nice kind of smile that made his green eyes (made iconic by Winston, naturally), sparkle. ''Well, I'm going to go to the World Meeting, and you'll be going to the Kitty Playpen.''

In some ways, Winston loved the Kitty Playpen. He didn't mind Tama or Gino, or even Johann. He didn't even hate Jacques, despite their many romantic disputes. Winston liked Rasputin and Pita, and he supposed Salmiakki and 'Stromming weren't too bad. It was required to like Maple (Winston _had_ birthed him, after all). But Winston did not and would not _ever_ like Coco. He was stupid Spain's kitty, and all Coco ever did was sing a stupid tune. He only said, ''La, la, la, la . . .,'' when he sang! Needless to say, it got rather old after a while.

But the one thing that Winston _did_ love at the Kitty Playpen was Ronald. He was Second Master's cat and fluffy and cream-colored with an amazing mane of fur on his neck. And Ronald was fat, so very fat. He was really fat, and Winston loved it.

Why does Winston love Ronald's immense girth?

Because that meant that if Winston was stuck in a frozen tundra with only Ronald by his side, they would make it. Ronald's flub could make an igloo. Winston hadn't, of course, told the love of his Kitty Life _that_ little piece of information.

Second Master wasn't fat. He had muscles, but he definitely wasn't fat. And at least Ronald wasn't as fat as Rasputin. _His_ milkshake (Grande, extra whipped cream), brought all the cats to the yard. But Rasputin's master was like, ''Why are you in my yard?''

After Master turned the water back on, Winston walked into the living room. He glanced over at the coffee table and made an, ''Oh'', of delight when he saw that Master had accidentally left the laptop open. Winston knew his technology and jumped onto the couch, pawing at the Power button on the laptop. The screen lit up, and after a few minutes of loading, the screen saver (a lovely picture of Master and Second Master), came up.

Winston loved Skype. It was the easiest way to contact Ronald before a World Meeting, and if Second Master happened to be there, it would be quite the happy accident. Winston guided the mouse (the electronic one, not the one living under Master's dresser - but don't tell Master), to the desired icon.

Thirty seconds of expert maneuvering later, Second Master's excited face appeared on the screen.

'''Ello!'' Winston greeted.

''Morning, Winnie,'' Second Master replied; he was buttoning the cuff on his dress shirt (oh, and he looked rather lovely). ''Say, is Britain there, or did you get on the laptop again?''

The feline purred mischievously. ''Only if you tell me where Roonald is.'' Yes, Winston was well aware that no one pronounced Ronald's name 'Roonald'. But Winston did, and haters can hate. Or fall down a well. Whichever is more convenient.

Second Master disappeared for a second but returned, hoisting Ronald up with him. Ronald seemed especially chunky today.

''Roonald!''

''Winnie!''

The two cats then proceeded to nuzzle their noses against the computer screens (because _everyone_ knows that nose nuzzling is very passionate - it's like Frenching). Winston stopped when he heard Master stumble into the living room. He was drying his unruly, yellow hair with a towel. ''What are you doing, Winston?''

''Morning, Babe,'' Second Master drawled. Master glanced up before smiling stupidly. He always did that whenever Second Master was around.

''Good morning, yourself.''

The two were staring at their respective computer screens, making lovey-dovey eyes at each other. If Winston hadn't intervened when he had, the Masters might've started kitten-making via Skype.

Some people just couldn't be controlled. It was a hard job, keeping Master and Second Master from crawling all over each other; but Winston 'Winnie' Bancroft Kirkland was a touch little cookie, and he was quite certain that he was the only suitable cat for the job.


End file.
